


Gifts for the Guardians

by Zanik_of_the_Dorgeshuun



Series: The Wind and the Waves [9]
Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Guthixians, Sixth Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 18:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14361249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanik_of_the_Dorgeshuun/pseuds/Zanik_of_the_Dorgeshuun
Summary: Guthix imbued them with his power. He died, and none of them have been whole since. Doktin, and the Guardians of Guthix as a whole, have to do what they can.I'm imagining this as an older Doktin, after the events of her main timeline. Perhaps she's thirty, perhaps she's three hundred. Either way, though, she's the lynchpin of a community of grieving creatures who have never been the same since the Sixth Age began.Features flowery writing and liberal application of headcanon.





	Gifts for the Guardians

Doktin had spent years weaving his energy; it formed itself with her thoughts. She could craft shapes, structures, old things and new. And all the while, the energy resonated with her... restoring, just briefly, something that was lost.

She knew the others were suffering in the same way. She brought them gifts one day, hoping to bring them the same trace of rebirth that she felt.

Juna wore his life in luminous gold, a veil trailing down from her head. The shine of it glittered down her scales, wreathing her whole form in his light; the shimmer rose and fell with her ancient breaths.

Fiara dangled elaborate bracelets from each of her legs, flickering braids adorned with jewels. They swung together as she walked, clacking in time with the tap of her clawed feet.

Valluta felt the glowing lattice stretched across her shell. Though clad in craggy carapace, shrouded by skin of stone, the pulsing power was ever soft.

Solak needed nothing, for he was of the anima; the memory flowed through him in ley lines. Yet for Doktin's sake, he took a trinket: webbed strands, incandescent, glinting indigo between his branches.

Ocellus shook at Doktin's approach, but calmed at the sight of the garland she held. Lustrous blossom encircled his head, and for a moment, it brought him stillness.

Death drew his hood closer to his skull, resonating with the gleaming energy woven into the fabric. It brought warmth to his bones and strength to his mind: it made Death feel a little closer to life.

On the walls of Guthix's chamber, amongst the carvings from ancient times, a new pattern was woven: the form of Cres, etched bright into the roots of the trees. His fatherless automatons looked to it in confused curiosity.

And Doktin hugged her cloak to herself, thick and vibrant and soothing. With the hood shielding her eyes and the cape pulled around her body, she could be safe from the world's harsh glare, safe in the soft glow of Guthix green.

It wasn't quite enough. Still she ached. All of them did: the slender strings between the Guardians and their glow were cut. Their frayed ends had fallen to darkness. All they had now was the memory of the light... and they clung to whatever they could.


End file.
